Connect the Dots, Boys
by Vergileus
Summary: There are days, Derek thinks, were Stiles takes his sci-fi, anime, and mythical creatures obsession a bit too far. And there are days were Stiles thinks Derek just wants to be a Sourface. Derek and Stiles are roommates. AU.


_Series Summary: _

_"It's amazing that you guys are so close...yet you two aren't dating," Scott tells him, and Stiles can hear the unspoken: "Grow a fucking pair" in Scott's voice. "I mean, you two cuddle. Cuddle, Stiles!"_

_"Derek, please. You let him cuddle with you. You buy him his favorite coffee, and you put up with his crazy antics. You're in the like, lil bro," Laura all but sing-songs, and she may or may not have a point. They, after all, share the same bed._

_Derek and Stiles are roommates. They may or may not be dating (they just haven't realized it)._

_All human AU. No Hale Fire._

_The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and The Hunger Games belong to Douglas Adams and Suzanne Collins respectively. And TW and DW belong to their respective owners, as well._

* * *

There are days, Derek thinks, were Stiles takes his sci-fi, anime, and mythical creatures obsession a bit _too_ far.

It isn't often that the two of them are able to simply go out or shop like normal, average people. Not that he's complaining, it usually entails an adventure, as Stiles puts it; usually, any outings between them are pretty wild, with Stiles going off on unsuspecting people about creatures that bump in the night to the latest anime whenever they just happen to pass _kids _debating the latest episode (it happens _a lot_).

Living in New York is a blessing for the both of them. There are enough conventions in a year for Stiles to attend, and well, for Derek it means that he's closer to his sister, Laura.

But yeah, outings with Stiles entail adventures.

So it doesn't surprise Derek when Stiles decides enthusiastically that Monday morning is perfect for a trip to a _bookstore_ of all places.

"Stiles," he grumbles, trudging behind him through the street water-splashing traffic. "Is this _really_ necessary? Couldn't this have waited?"

Stiles shoots him a look over his shoulder, the frame of his glasses pokes into the hood of his sweatshirt. "I think once you become familiar with the smell of a new book, you'll understand why this absolutely is necessary. And besides, you don't have anything better to do."

"Right…" Shoving his hands into his jackets pockets, Derek silently follows him into one of New York City's many _Barnes and Nobles._ The scents of fresh coffee and clean paper surrounds them, and the store is cozy warm, a pleasant break from the dreary dankness outside. Soft lights filter down from above, and Stiles looks as if he just stepped into his own version of heaven.

Derek rolls his eyes and chuckles lowly at the other.

A table displaying various best sellers quickly catches his eye. Turning to pick up a copy of _The Hunger Games_ and leaf through its pages, it takes him a minute to realize that Stiles has wandered off somewhere. Derek knows that Stiles is already inspecting the lore section, or digging through the newest arrival of sci-fi or his cartoons ("It's called Manga and Anime, Derek!").

Derek shrugs to himself and spends a good while immersed in browsing a shelf of gift sets and jigsaw puzzles they sell there, then the calendar rack, then the discounted items of the day, and then he begins to look for Stiles.

* * *

Someone taps on his shoulder half an hour later, and Derek tries his best not to deck the offender. It's a reflex. Instead, he jolts slightly, and turns to see Stiles shoving a black, hardcover book in his face. He blinks stupidly at it.

"Derek, look! Look what they have!" the excitement and joy in Stiles' voice is unmistakable.

"What is it?"

Stiles _beams_, "It's _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_!"

Derek blinks again. "The guide to what now?" a frown mars his features, because Stiles doesn't need that. "Stiles, why would you need—"

Stiles opts to ignore him, stroking the book lovingly. His bright smile is replaced by lopsided grin. "I haven't read this since my mom died…she'd use to read them to me, you know?"

Derek swallows hard and nods minutely.

"What's it about?" Derek tilts his head to read the spine. "What's a _Zaphod_?"

Stiles, again, ignores the second question. "It's a book, Derek. A remarkable book, really." He opens it and flips through it, skimming a few pages before apparently finding the paragraph he wanted. "In fact, it's probably the most remarkable book to ever come out." He glances up to find Derek looking thoroughly unimpressed, "Not exactly your cup of tea, huh?"

"Eh, not really," Derek shrugs casually.

Stiles gives him another look. "The author for the guide was a very influential man! He wrote for the greatest sci-fi show ever!"

"And that is?"

"Doctor Who."

"Who?" Derek's brows shoot up, staring at Stiles, face carefully blank.

"Yes. Doctor Who," Stiles nods cleverly.

"…I'm confused."

Oblivious to his confusion, Stiles closes the book and holds it close to his chest. "Well, anyway. I'm going to buy this and then we can get some coffee. You wait for me over…" He squints, then points in a fairly vague direction. "Over at one of those tables, okay?"

And Derek rolls his eyes, because Stiles always does this when they come here. He expects Derek to know what direction he's pointing at.

"All right, just…just don't get into trouble," he can't stress that out enough as it is.

Stiles' bright smile comes back and Derek finds himself smiling too, because really, Stiles' smile is contagious.

"Lighten up, Sourface. We are having an _adventure_."

* * *

Stiles must have been held up while waiting in line to check out, or started a conversation with some employee, because Derek has been waiting for a good ten minutes for Stiles to decide to join him. He stirs a cup of what he had hope was simply black coffee but it turned out to be salted caramel and some other stuff. It looks and tastes like something only Stiles drinks. This only adds to the disappointment of finding out that the signs offering a free slice of lemon cake with the purchase of any drink, turned out to be false advertising. The _inhumanity_.

"What took you so long?" Derek asks, watching Stiles pull back a chair and sit down.

Stiles sighs and pushes his glasses further up his nose. "Some lady paid with a credit card and wanted her change back. They tried to explain to her why that doesn't work several times, but she was too stubborn. Almost like Lydia. But anyway," he stares at the table for a good second before reaching out for Derek's cup and taking a sip.

"Oh yeah. Go ahead. _Take it_," he grumbles.

"Shut up. It's not like you're drinking it," Stiles points out smugly.

Derek rolls his eyes silently with the ghost of a smile.

"Is this Salted Caramel Mocha Frappuccino?" Stiles continues to consume the beverage, and Derek doesn't really mind that his drink was stolen.

He's actually more impressed that Stiles can actually drink that stuff.

"Yeah, I think so. I didn't really catch the name, mostly because I didn't ask for it," he leans his chin into his palm and watches Stiles thoughtfully drinking coffee as he slowly turns the book's pages.

"I've forgotten about this part," Stiles smiles down at the book, then looks up at Derek. "Did you know that a towel is the most useful thing to have at your disposal?"

Derek raises an eyebrow in disbelief, "Bullshit."

"Not kidding," Stiles ignores Derek's "bullshit" look and carries on. "At any rate, there are a number of ways you can use a towel. For example," he stares up at the ceiling in thought for a moment, then continues. "You can soak a corner of it in orange juice or any drinkable liquid and suck it out for quick drink, or, um. You can soak liquor into it! Pretty crafty, huh?"

Derek looks mildly interested, but is at least paying attention nonetheless. Stiles carries on.

"Depending on what color towel you have, you can use it as a type of camouflage!"

Now this catches Derek's attention. He snorts in disbelief, because if all those years playing hide and seek with Laura taught him something. It's that comforters are the _best_ camouflage. "It can't possibly be better than a comforter."

Stiles meets his eyes and sees the challenge in the look Derek is giving him. "You want to bet?"

Derek sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. "Yeah. I want to bet. I bet you…" he scans the room, seeking out any ideas the surrounding area might provide him.

"I bet you a comforter is a better camouflage. If you lose, you have to buy one of those safe sex day-to-day tip calendars and send it to, uh," he lowers his voice slightly out of habit. "To, uh, that guy dating Lydia."

Stiles howls with laughter, "Jackson!?"

"Yeah, him."

"Okay," Stiles wipes away a few stray mirth tears with his thumb and says, laughter still evident in his voice. "Okay, then. I bet you a towel is better, and if you lose, you have to watch a marathon of Doctor Who and anime with me, one that's at least have fifty-five episodes."

Derek blanches.

"And no complaining during it! No sneaking off to use the bathroom for five hours, either. I saw what you did there last time," Stiles extends a hand, prompting Derek to shake on it. "Agreed?"

"Agreed," he takes Stiles hand after a moment of mauling it over and shakes it. If the table hadn't been separating them, they might have done their Alpha Pack secret handshake. At least, that's what Stiles calls it. It's basically them shaking hands while howling.

* * *

Soon enough, they are heading for the subway. They have to walk for a bit to get to a station that would take them to Lincoln Square Bed Bath & Beyond on Broadway, but overall, the train would save them a lot of effort.

And knowing Stiles, he wouldn't survive the walk there.

Stiles thanks the transit agency for simply existing and doing its job. Derek isn't entirely sure why going to this specific store of all places is _also_ necessary, but apparently it is.

"You could also use a towel to cover your head from the rain," Stiles points out as Derek sits beside him.

"A comforter can do that, too?"

"You don't sound too sure about that. But yeah it works, but it'll get ruined."

"So?"

"Derek, just admit it. A towel is—"

"No."

Luckily, a train employee asks to see their tickets before anything could escalate into full-blown trivial bickering. They are, of course, above trivial bickering. They'd never sink to that level.

Or so they say.

A minute or two later, the train stops, and they board a second one that would take them to their destination. This, too, is a fairly short ride.

Stiles hadn't had the time to get much reading in, though he is certainly drained. He's still mastering the ability to focus while being surrounded with people and noise. It helps on the train rides home after class. He places his book back in the plastic bag they had given him and makes his way back to the busy city streets, with Derek not too far behind, watching him with amusement.

* * *

Bed Bath & Beyond are huge stores.

Derek doesn't think he's ever seen so many housewares related objects in his life (all the décor in their apartment is Lydia's doing, so he's never been to places like this). Thankfully, Stiles seems to know where he's going, and makes a beeline for the bathroom section. A wall of multicolored towels tower above them, and after a long moment of silent contemplation, Stiles picks a brown/reddish one, a whiskey color.

"The color of your eyes," Derek notes aloud, softly. Sometimes he feels the need to state the obvious around Stiles.

Stiles nods, pleased with this observation. "It is," he pauses and looks around. "Do you think we can check out—"

"No."

Derek grabs his hand and leads them towards the checkout lanes.

No they will not see if this store sells any Star Wars or Star Trek laundry baskets, Derek knows Stiles has been looking for one of these. How does he know? Well, Stiles never clears his history searches.

* * *

They take the subway home too.

"A towel can be used as a cape."

"So can a comforter."

"No, that'd be too big. You'd trip over if you tried to run with a comforter around your shoulders. A towel, however, is perfect."

"Stiles. Shut up."

After a quick dinner of ramen ("Stiles, I need _real_ food.") and potato chips, they set up for their—admittedly somewhat immature—glorified version of hide and seek. Derek lets Stiles go first. He doesn't want to ruin the night for Stiles with his awesome hiding talent just yet.

They agreed to time their searching, and whoever finds the other the quickest wins.

He knows that Derek has sisters he used to play this with, of course he has experience. The only one who Stiles got to play this with was Scott, and Scott always let him win when they were kids.

He has a worthy adversary, and he cannot lose this. He won't be able to face Lydia and Jackson without laughing his ass off, if he loses.

Shrugging that thought away, Stiles curls tighter into himself, hidden beneath a pile of unfolded towels in their closet. For once, he's immensely grateful that they hadn't bothered to put this stuff away. Otherwise, the sudden mess would've been too noticeable instead of providing an excellent cover. He pulls out his phone and lights up the darkness with a soft white glow. It's been seven minutes already, and Derek hadn't checked the closet once.

Stiles snickers to himself.

A towel is better, indeed.

* * *

He hasn't checked the closet yet.

It's approaching twelve minutes in, and somehow he hasn't manage to turn up Stiles in the relatively small space of their apartment. Granted, he had been snacking on a box of crackers—the healthy kind, thanks to Stiles—for the first four minutes, but it hasn't hindered his seeking skills that much. Frowning, he marches determinedly into their room and throws open the closet door, but doesn't notice a thing out of the ordinary.

Fuck.

He paces back to the room they turned into an office and searches there.

Nothing.

"Damn," Derek mutters, walking back to their bedroom, frustrated. Had Stiles left the apartment? No. that's cheating…but then again…not that they established any set of rules, but still. Stiles could have easily left the apartment. And he's going to have a long talk with Stiles if he did.

As he's about to leave the bedroom, his ears catch a quiet chuckle coming from the closet. He checks it again.

He mentally kicks himself again and again for being right here earlier and not noticing the fairly obvious hiding spot. Derek reaches down into the pile of towels and yanks.

And there is a wild Stiles right there.

"Got you."

Stiles smirks smugly, "Well, took you long enough. Only…twenty minutes? Tsk. Tsk. Derek, man. You suck at this."

"Shut up. You smell like wet socks."

Stiles gasps in mock horror, "Rude! But fair enough." He rises up and dusts his pants. "Think you can beat that?"

Though it's in his nature not to give up and admit defeat, Derek thinks that this is a good time to concede. "Yeah…not so much," He scratches the back of his head and sighs. "I don't think I can hide anywhere with our comforter. It's white. It'll give me away easily."

Stiles' smirk grows wider at this.

He gives Stiles a look worthy of sympathy, "Does it really have to be fifty-five episodes long?"

Stiles smiles, a small and private one, "Nah, since you admitted I was the true winner here, I'll spare you. Let's see…" He walks back into the living room and plops down on the couch and turns on his Xbox and loads up Netflix. He searches his queue, "Oh, I know what we can watch."

A short while later, they're both curled up on the couch and finishing up the opened box of crackers. Stiles scoots closer to Derek, taking his glasses off before pressing his cheek against Derek's chest. Wolverine and Sabertooth are duking it out on the screen.

For some reason, Derek seems to be rooting for Wolverine. He glances to his right and can't help but smile.

"Are you serious? You're using it as a blanket now?"

Stiles nods against Derek's shirt. "Just one of its many uses, Der."

Derek rolls his eyes, smiling fondly at him, and wraps an arm around Stiles waist, pulling him closer.

"Tomorrow, we're going out again."

And Derek knows it'll be another adventure.


End file.
